


Ashes to Ashes

by BuddysImpala



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: Angst, Dark, Fire, I would tag Other Things but spoilers, I'm so sorry, M/M, Phillip dies in the fire, The Greatest Showman, U h o h, barlyle - Freeform, did you think Burn was bad, it's gonna be a ride, just wait, mellon I'm coming for u, oh noes, oof, tgs, the Barlyle is mostly one sided...or is it??
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-04-29 17:54:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 30
Words: 7,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14478066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuddysImpala/pseuds/BuddysImpala
Summary: "we all fall down."*In which Phillip dies in the fire,and Barnum unknowingly invites in an invisible houseguest.





	1. 00

_"In which Phillip dies in the fire._

_And Barnum unknowingly opens his home to an invisible houseguest."_

Playlist:

1\. Ain't No Sunshine - Bill Withers

2\. Chasing Cars - Snow Patrol

3\. Crying in the Rain - The Everly Brothers*

4\. Here Without You - 3 Doors Down

5\. Hey Angel - One Direction

6\. Hurt - Johnny Cash

7\. I Will Follow You Into The Dark - Death Cab for Cutie

8\. So Far Away - Avenged Sevenfold

9\. The Sound of Silence - Simon & Garfunkel

10\. Untouchable - Taylor Swift

*- Micky Dolenz covered Crying in the Rain on his 2010 album King for a Day, and I also highly recommend his cover! But Carole King originally wrote the song for The Everly Brothers :) the Everly version is absolutely lovely on my record player.

 


	2. 01

He stumbled and greedily sucked in mouthfuls of fresh air as he fell forward. Crashing to his knees on the ground, he carefully unloaded the unconscious man in his arms. Loud, rattling breaths shook him as he clumsily felt for a pulse.

" _Daddy!_ " a child in the distance screamed. " _Daddy!_ "

Tears brought on by the combination of smoke and overwhelming emotion stung his eyes and rolled down sooty cheeks. He struggled for breath more and more with each passing second, panic building as he frantically felt around Phillip's neck, his chest.

He wasn't moving, why wasn't he moving. Why couldn't he _feel—_

Barnum was pulled away from Phillip by the oncoming paramedics and let out a loud cry of protest. Almost delirious and breathing heavily, he watched a paramedic as he knelt down and felt around Phillip's neck and chest, just as he had done. The paramedic paused a moment, Phillip's wrist in hand, before shaking his head. He gently laid Phillip's hand over his chest, and stood up, shaking his head 'no' at the man holding Barnum back.

Barnum's vision blurred as he looked down at Phillip. Phillip, who was still lying on the ground. Phillip, who hadn't moved since being rescued from that _God damn burning building—_

Somebody screamed as the paramedic laid a sheet over Phillip, covering his face. Seconds later, the ringmaster jolted when he heard a sharp _shhh_ hissed right in his ear.

That's when he realized, in shock and horror, that the scream had come from _him._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow guess who's the literal worst at first chapters


	3. 02

The first thing Phillip saw through the smoke and chaos and fire was _Barnum_. Barnum, who had fallen to his knees in the street. Barnum, who had his wife and daughters surrounding him.

"P.T.!" Phillip shouted.

Barnum did not look up.

"P.T.!" Phillip shouted again. He ran out the building and toward Barnum and his girls. "I'm all right, see? I'm here, I'm safe, I'm—"

Phillip stopped short when he saw the body lying on the ground. Two paramedics lifted the body, covered by a sheet, but the sheet shifted. It slid down the body's face and Phillip saw the closed eyes, the nose, the lips—

He _screamed_. His body laid motionless as the paramedics boarded it in the back of the ambulance.

"P.T.!" Phillip cried. He ran toward the ringmaster and fell to his knees by the older man's side. "What's happening, Barnum? Where's Anne? I—"

He stopped short when he realized the ringmaster wasn't paying him any mind. Charity and the girls - who both sobbed loudly in the midst of all the chaos and confusion - seemed to be ignoring him too.

Phillip paused. Reaching a shaking hand out, he tried touching Barnum, tried placing his hand on the older man's shoulder. Fearful tears rolled down his cheeks.

His hand went straight through.

 


	4. 03

The funeral came and went. P.T. hardly registered the event at all - seemingly in a daze since losing Phillip. He didn't know how the other oddities were holding up, as he'd hardly left his house. Charity had to force him to eat, had to force him to bathe, had to force him to function like a normal human being. Keeping up the act - especially in front of the girls - was hard. It was so, so hard when all she wanted to do was break down and cry.

Phillip himself felt on the verge of a mental breakdown - if there was such a thing when you were passed and all your organs had quit functioning. He'd followed Barnum to his own funeral - he seemed to be attached to the ringmaster, but why he didn't know - and watched in numb silence as the pastor spoke of his life. His parents were almost totally silent in the front row - Mrs. Carlyle let out a tearful cry every once in awhile, letting everyone know that she was, in fact, in attendance, but Mr. Carlyle sat stoic. He didn't say a word, didn't shed a single tear throughout the entire service.

Then came the burial.

Watching his own casket being lowered into the ground was - well, even Phillip, the wordsmith that he was

(or used to be)

couldn't find the right words for it. Oddly enough, as he stood next to Barnum (who showed much more emotion than either Mr. or Mrs. Carlyle), watching the casket with his body inside disappear into the earth, he felt - calm. A sort of peace settled over him with the knowledge that he would be lifted into Heaven after the funeral, free of all Earthly burdens and hardships. Surely his funeral marked the end of his time on Earth and he would be pulled up to join long gone family and friends at any moment.

But then the service ended. And Phillip Carlyle was still bound to Earth like he had rocks tied to his ankles, weighing him down.

Days passed, and Phillip began to panic. He followed Barnum around - for some reason he couldn't describe, he felt strongest around the ringmaster - but, as noted before, the man didn't do much. Phillip felt sure that he was on the verge of losing his mind.

He didn't belong on Earth where the living people dwelled. They couldn't see him, couldn't interact.

He didn't belong in Heaven for some ungodly reason that he didn't know and - a part of him - didn't want to find out.

He couldn't help but wonder - was this Purgatory? Had he taken his life for granted - his life of riches that came at a cost by his father's hands? Were the almost daily beatings, dating back to childhood, not enough to warrant an eternal rest in peace?

Phillip Carlyle sat in the corner of Barnum's living room, unnoticed by Barnum, who sat and stared out the window. He let out a sob and buried his face in his hands.

Despite the fact that he was totally surrounded by people, constantly by Barnum's side and within the presence of Charity and the children, Phillip Carlyle was... alone.

Completely and totally... isolated.

 


	5. 04

Phillip sat in the corner, legs drawn up to his chest. He had his arms wrapped around his legs and his face buried in his knees when he heard the knock at the door. He looked up when he heard footsteps - Charity - approach down the hall. Murmured voices that he couldn't make out, then footsteps again.

"Phin? You have some visitors, darling."

Barnum sat on the couch with an unread book opened to a random page in his lap. He let out a sigh, but otherwise showed no reaction to the announcement of company.

Phillip, however, gasped as Anne Wheeler and Lettie Lutz strolled into the room.

"Anne!" the playwright called out. He jumped to his feet and approached the younger woman in long, quick strides.

She stared right past him.

"You can't keep lying around here all day, Barnum," Lettie scolded, clucking her tongue. Anne sat down next to the ringmaster and Lettie shifted her weight to one foot, a hand on her hip. "You've got to come back. The circus needs you."

Barnum stared straight ahead. His eyes flickered, for a brief moment, over to Lettie, but then refocused on the spot on the wall he'd been staring at for the past - well, he couldn't even remember how long. Anne sighed and placed a delicate hand on his arm.

Phillip's throat closed up. He couldn't take his eyes off the girl, couldn't—

"We need you," she murmured. "Phillip, he - he wouldn't approve of you lying around and moping all day."

No. No he didn't.

Barnum's eyes shifted again, this time looking at Anne. Chapped lips moved, forming the first word he'd spoken since the funeral.

"Phillip?"

"Yes, Barnum. Please," Anne sighed heavily and downcast her eyes, "come back."

"The circus is," Barnum gulped and cleared his throat. He spoke in a voice hardly higher than a whisper. "It's ruined. There's no way we can rebuild. We can't afford it."

Anne smiled sadly. She ducked her head. Phillip swore he saw tears in her eyes.

"Phillip had money," she whispered. "Money that he saved up and he - he gave to you, Barnum. He had it all written out - you sort of have to, when you have a name as heavy in wealth and society such as Carlyle."

"What are you saying?" Barnum choked.

"The money - from the circus, anyway, not his family's wealth - is yours, Barnum. W.D. and I have been doing some investigating - there's some land by the docks that we can rent out and use." She paused, then murmured. "If you want to, that is."

"I only gave him ten percent," Barnum choked, "that's hardly enough to—"

"We may have to work to cover some of the excess costs," Lettie explained, cutting him off, "but we can do it, Barnum. We can do this. Please - come back."

Barnum pursed his lips together. He looked up and - for the briefest of moments - Phillip swore the older man looked directly at him. His breath caught in his throat.

"All right," he choked. "We can...we can do this."

Anne smiled. Lettie exhaled, loudly, and threw her head back. Barnum smiled, too - it wasn't anything like his former smile, that could have lit up the world if it had wanted to, but it was something.

Barnum smiled and took a deep, steadying breath.

"For Phillip."

 


	6. 05

Slowly, very slowly, the circus began to rebuild. At first, Phillip cried with happiness at the thought of being out of the house, finally. But that happiness soon ebbed away to horror - the kind of horror that he only knew how to comfort with contact and communication. But he was simply a memory to the circus troupe, a whisper in the wind that could never again be reached.

Barnum was all smiles as he helped the family he'd brought together rebuild. The circus was healing in some ways, yes, and he found some basic function coming back to him. He no longer needed Charity to remind him to eat, no longer needed her to remind him to move, and he spoke to his daughters once more. They too had been quiet and resigned - not old enough, yet, to understand death, but old enough to understand that Phillip was gone and never coming back. They understood that their daddy had been sad, but they were delighted to see - in their young, naive eyes - that their father was starting to get some of his spark back.

But when all he could do was observe all day, every day, with nobody around to tell him to mind his business, Phillip noticed things that the others - Charity, the girls, the circus troupe - didn't. Barnum was all smiles again, but his eyes were dull. He became resigned when the others spoke of Phillip too much, and, though he ate, he was always the last one done during mealtimes.

The worst thing, the thing that tore at Phillip's phantom heartstrings for reasons he couldn't describe, was when he cried at night.

 


	7. 06

On the night of the first show since the fire, Barnum paced back and forth. Tugging at his hair, tears in his eyes.

"I can't do this," he muttered. "I can't, I can't."

"Barnum?" Lettie poked her head into the backstage room and Barnum's head snapped up. He didn't look her in the eye and she couldn't see the tears. "We're on in five."

Barnum nodded and she disappeared from sight. He muttered something to himself, something that not even Phillip - who stood in the corner with his arms crossed, concerned eyes watching the ringmaster's every move - could hear.

"You have to go on, P.T.," Phillip murmured.

Barnum lifted his head and Phillip's breath caught in his throat. But the older man made no sign of acknowledgment and Phillip let out an unnecessary breath.

Barnum shook his head. He rubbed his face and pressed his hands to his eyes.

"I can't," he muttered. A deep, shuddering breath rattled his chest. "I have to cancel, I have to—"

"Please," Phillip whispered.

Barnum paused again, hands still pressed to his face.

Phillip gulped. "For me."

Barnum stood, frozen. Then, slowly, he lowered his hands from his eyes.

"For Phillip," he muttered.

His hand unknowingly passed through Phillip's as he rushed by.

 


	8. 07

Phillip watched, wide-eyed, as P.T. Barnum performed.

The man danced around the ring, smiling, beaming. The audience cheered, the shrieks of delighted children ringing throughout the tent. Phillip's death had been written up in all sorts of newspapers - how could it not be, with a name like Carlyle? - but the littlest members of the audience were far too young to know who Phillip was, or that he'd lived and died. For that, the man was grateful.

"It's everything you ever need—"

Barnum paused. He stood in the middle of his circus ring, looking out at the audience like a frightened deer. Phillip's smile - sad, proud, beautiful - wiped clean off his face and he watched the next moments in silence.

"It's everything you ever need," Barnum muttered. He dropped his head, stared down at his hands. Confused whispers erupted from within the audience.

When Barnum turned, just enough for Phillip to catch a quick glimpse of his face, the dead man felt his stomach drop. Tears streaked down the ringmaster's face.

He walked out of the ring.

Didn't run, didn't bolt.

Just - walked.

The circus troupe let of cries of confusion similar to the audience, but they had the show to think about - none of them paid attention to where Barnum disappeared to. Lettie ran into the ring to take over - the stage fright from her very first performance long since forgotten.

Phillip followed Barnum.

The man walked - stiffly, almost calmly - into the backstage arena and Phillip watched in silent horror as he took off his hat. The top hat rested on a table and Barnum sank to the floor.

"It's everything you ever need," he rasped in a voice quickly breaking. Phillip realized what this was - the man had shown the exact same signs following the days after his death. He was returning to his mute, catatonic state.

"P.T., _no_."

Phillip forced himself forward and dropped to his knees in front of Barnum, who sat on the ground, silent, unblinking. The playwright's phantom hands shimmered see-through in front of him.

He grit his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut. Energy flowed through his spirit to his hands... and he closed them around Barnum's wrists.

The older man cried out and jerked his hands away with such force that he almost knocked himself over. Phillip trembled as he opened his eyes.

Barnum stared at him, face as pale as his own, lips parted, eyes taking on a wide, wild look.

" _Phillip_ ," he croaked.

 


	9. 08

Phillip smiled softly at Barnum, feeling a little lightheaded from the energy usage. He kept his hands around the man's wrists, though, as his vision blurred and his apparition began to flicker in and out.

Barnum stared at him. He didn't seem frightened - just shocked. Disbelieving, almost.

"Phillip, you're—"

"I know," Phillip whispered. Had he been alive, he would have thrown up by now with the wooziness wracking his body. His hands fell away from Barnum's wrists, leaving nothing but soft pink traces on his skin in their wake - so faint, no person could see them unless they knew to look.

Barnum rubbed at his wrists as he spoke next.

"Please don't go," he whispered. His voice was hoarse with much more emotion than Phillip had ever heard from the ringmaster.

Phillip closed his eyes. He felt exhausted - like focusing all his energy on Barnum had drained him. He wanted to stay, wanted to stay with the one person alive that knew he was there, but he found himself fading...with a tired sigh...

He was gone when Charity and the girls burst into the room.

 


	10. 09

Phillip followed Barnum home in the form of an orb - a small ball of energy that couldn't transform into a full apparition. Taking on this form was odd - he couldn't keep track of time in this form, only float - and he found himself back at the Barnum mansion with no idea how much time had passed.

Before he knew what was happening, he was back to his true form. He found himself in a bedroom and glanced around curiously before his eyes fell on the king-sized bed.

Barnum laid beneath the sheets. Charity sat on the edge of the bed, a hand to his forehead. Phillip didn't have a clear view of her face, but he could picture the deep, worried frown.

"I'm telling you, Chairy, I'm not sick. I saw Phillip. He was—"

"You had a nervous breakdown on stage, Phineas." Charity's voice was sharp with truth, but soft with concern. "You need to lie down. Take it easy."

"He touched me. My wrists..."

Barnum shifted and held up a hand. Charity shook her head. She leaned forward and caressed the man's cheek.

"If you still feel like this in the morning, I'll call a doctor," she promised. Then she got up and left the room.

Barnum laid alone in bed, a look of disbelief on his face. Groaning, he covered his eyes.

"What's wrong with me?" he moaned. "There's no such thing as ghosts..."

Phillip ached to appear to him once more, but he didn't have enough energy. He could only watch Barnum in helpless silence.

"No such thing as ghosts," Barnum muttered again.

He turned on his side, ready for sleep, but not before Phillip caught a glimpse of him rubbing at the faint pink marks on his wrists one more time.

 


	11. 10

"Daddy, do you miss Phillip?"

Caroline's question during supper a few nights later caused Barnum to jerk, not expecting the question, and nearly spilling his soup. Even Phillip - who sat at an empty space next to Helen, unnoticed - stiffened in his seat.

"I do," Barnum admitted, lowering his eyes to the table. "Very much, yes."

"Is he ever coming back?"

"That's enough, Caroline," Charity interrupted quietly, placing a hand on the girl's shoulder.

Caroline looked up at her mother. "But, Mommy—"

"Phillip is somewhere else right now," Charity murmured, brushing back the girl's dark hair, "but I bet he's watching over you."

"Really?" Caroline's eyes widened.

"Yes, really," Charity chuckled, poking the tip of her nose.

Phillip relaxed a little and settled back into the chair.

Barnum gasped.

Immediately, Phillip's wide eyes were on the ringmaster. The older man's face was sheet white.

_How? Was he unknowingly projecting energy?_

"Daddy?" Caroline asked. Helen and Charity's attention were on him too. "What's wrong?"

"Phil...Phillip..."

Phillip sank low in his seat. Barnum's eyes followed his every move.

Helen looked at the seat directly next to her.

"There's no one here, Daddy."

 


	12. 11

Barnum sighed and slumped in his chair, face in his hands. The girls had run off to their rooms and Charity scrubbed at the dinner dishes.

Phillip still sat where he was. Barnum couldn't see him anymore, he didn't think - after Helen had made the exclamation that 'nobody was there,' the ringmaster's face fell. He continued to look at Phillip's seat, but he didn't really look at _Phillip_ \- instead, he stared straight past him. Somehow, the younger man had successfully become invisible once more.

"I'm worried about you, Phin," Charity spoke, breaking the silence.

Barnum didn't respond.

Charity dried a plate as she said, "you've been acting... different, since Phillip died. First, you didn't leave the house."

Barnum winced.

"Then you run off during your performance, and now you're whispering his name at the dinner table with claims that you've seen him. That's not normal behavior, Phineas."

Barnum was silent for another few moments. Then—

"He is - _was_ \- my friend, Charity."

 _Friend_.

"I - I miss him."

Charity sighed and set a plate on the counter. Barnum still sat in his chair at the head of the table and she sat next to him, taking his hands in hers.

"I know it's hard, Phin. But the girls, the circus, and I - we're all here for you."

She offered him a soft, sad smile and squeezed his hands before reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind his ear. Her hand lingered on his cheek.

With a lump in his throat, Phillip's gaze fixed on Barnum leaning into his wife's touch, then lowered to their intertwined fingers.

He slowly faded from the room.

 


	13. 12

Later that night, as the Barnum family retired to bed, Barnum himself interrupted the peaceful slumber with a scream in his sleep. Phillip was by his side in an instant.

And so was Charity.

Phillip watched in helpless silence as Charity woke and soothed the ringmaster - who woke unsteadily, drowsily, babbling in his half-conscious state - her hands on his face, wiping the tears from his cheeks. As his breathing evened, she pulled him into a hug, rocking him back and forth as she would Caroline or Helen.

Barnum buried his face in her shoulder, his nose in her hair. His eyes, still wet with tears, gazed at Phillip, and he whimpered.

Phillip ached to soothe Barnum as Charity was now, to hold him again and let the ringmaster feel his touch. But he knew now that the action would drain his energy, as it did back in the circus tent, for an unknown amount of time, and he held himself back.

Phillip himself was unable to cry, but, as he looked down into a devastated pair of watery, whiskey-colored eyes, he felt the phantom memory of tears roll down his cheeks.

 


	14. 13

Charity held her husband until he eventually drifted back to sleep. Now too alert herself, she sighed as she swung her legs out of bed, got up, and left the room. She stopped to light a candle, then made her way downstairs.

Phillip watched until he could no longer see her. Then he floated over and sat on the edge of the bed - right in the spot Charity had occupied moments ago.

Barnum had gone back to sleep, but his cheeks were still wet with tears. His face was scrunched up in agitation and deep lines ran across his forehead.

Attempting to channel most of his energy into his hand, Phillip held an unnecessary breath as he reached out, gently tucking a strand of hair away from Barnum's face.

The ringmaster didn't even stir.

Phillip's eyes flicked to the door - it, too, was unnecessary, as Charity couldn't see him, but he felt relieved nonetheless when he saw the hallway still dark and empty. He turned back to Barnum.

Then, slowly, he bent down and brushed his lips softly against the sleeping man's forehead. He let out a deep breath and his lined skin relaxed. Phillip smiled softly as he pulled away - he could already feel himself begin to flicker in and out.

To the sleeping ringmaster, Phillip's lips felt like nothing more than a cool brush of air against his skin.

 


	15. 14

The next morning, Barnum woke with chills and a cold.

Charity acted as nurse, being sure to keep the girls from the room. She enlisted in Anne's help to keep them occupied, and the young woman played with the children in the living room while their parents remained upstairs.

Phillip should have felt something at seeing Anne. He'd once professed his attraction to her while living, and he should have wanted to see her again - the prospect of seeing her, but not being able to communicate with her should have filled him with a painful mixture of love and misery.

Instead, though, he remained with Barnum. The home was big and he could not hear Anne's laughter or the squeals of Barnum's young daughters while he toted on the ringmaster.

He couldn't help but feel a little guilty - had his kiss caused this? Had Barnum's body - strong as it was, Phillip could not ignore that the man was steadily crossing middle-aged - rejected the abrupt, icy chill of his lips, plummeting the man into sickness?

Phillip sat by the door, legs stretched out, head against the wall as he watched Barnum. He'd started complaining of a headache a little while ago and, according to Charity, he'd started running a low-grade fever around that point, too - he'd been in and out of a fever-induced slumber since then.

He was sleeping now, but, as Charity pressed a cool rag to his forehead, he startled awake. He groaned.

"Phillip," he called out.

Phillip jolted.

"Phillip, Phillip," the man's words slurred with exhaustion. Charity leaned back, startled, the rag falling from her hand to the bed.

Hesitantly, Phillip stood and approached him. Barnum moaned in pain, but his eyes managed to focus on the whispy figure that only he could see.

"Phillip," he sighed again, eyes starting to flutter close once more with sleep. His hand fell from his chest to the mattress. Charity shook her head and returned the rag to his hot, flushed skin.

Hesitantly, Phillip reached out. The warm, solid weight of Barnum's hand in his comforted him and he focused his energy - he thought he was starting to become a little stronger, but perhaps that was only wishful thinking - on lacing his fingers with Barnum's. Slowly, he rubbed the pad of his thumb in circles across the man's palm.

On the brink of consciousness, Barnum sighed heavily as he was lulled back into sleep, the tiniest of smiles - the first Phillip had seen from him since his passing - on his lips.

 


	16. 15

Charity left the bedroom as Barnum fell asleep, moaning in discomfort in the midst of his fever dreams. Phillip ached to stay with the ringmaster, but curiosity overpowered him and he dropped Barnum's hand. He followed Charity into Barnum's office and watched as she called a number.

"Hello, Father," she sighed heavily. Phillip's eyebrows shot up. "I hate to ask this of you, but I'm worried about Phineas—"

She paused, lips pursing together as she listened to her father's rants on the other side of the line.

"He's your son in law, Father. Please, have a heart," she begged. "He's ill, I'm afraid, and terribly so - please, could you arrange for a doctor to come and meet him?"

Another pause. As Phillip watched, tears gathered in her eyes.

"I'll do anything," she whispered. Phillip strained to hear her and he had no idea how the person on the other end of the line could, either. "Please. He's - he's calling out to Phillip. I'm worried that—"

She paused again.

"Yes." She closed her eyes. "I'll do it." Tears wettened her eyelashes and rolled down her cheeks. "All right." A lump formed in her throat as she choked out her final words. "Thank you, Father."

She hung up the phone.

 


	17. 16

The medicine came quickly after that. Barnum was checked by a doctor - one of the finest in all of New York, courtesy of Mr. Hallett - and was prescribed medicine that would make his fever lower.

"Hopefully," the doctor said upon giving Barnum his first dosage, "it will stop the hallucinations too."

"And if it doesn't?" Charity fretted.

"Well," the doctor straightened, capped the medicine bottle, and wiped his coat, "I'm no psychological expert, but I believe it would be in your best interests to approach the asylum about that - should things become that drastic."

Charity cried, but she thanked the doctor and sent him on his way.

Meanwhile, Phillip was starting to feel sick himself, though not in the physical sense. Was he just an illusion? He didn't feel like an illusion, but... could it be possible?

His own worries were swept aside, though, as Barnum slowly gained his strength. The medicine worked and he was sitting up in bed, talking with Charity, promising to play with his girls as soon as he felt well enough.

Things carried on as normal. Phillip did not show himself again, but Barnum never once spoke of him - not even in his sleep. The ringmaster, of course, asked how Charity could afford the medicine she did, but she, of course, did not answer. He let the subject drop and, eventually, felt strong enough to get out of bed himself. He hugged his girls extra tightly that day.

All was well. Phillip observed from the shadows, but he was as content as he could be given the circumstances.

Then came the day that Charity left.

 

 


	18. 17

"You're... leaving?"

The last thing P.T. Barnum expected when he woke up the next morning was to see his wife and daughters dressed for an outing, bags in hands. Charity had tears in her eyes when she leaned forward, softly brushing her lips against her husband's.

"We'll be back," she vowed, pulling away. "Father made me promise... when I got you the medicine—"

Realization dawned on the ringmaster. He suddenly felt sick to his stomach.

"—but I'll make quick work of convincing him," she promised. Her eyes were frantic, begging P.T. to believe her. "We'll be gone a week. Two at the most."

Barnum said nothing. His eyes shifted to his girls, who clung to each other afraid and unsure.

"I'll have Father bring them by this weekend," Charity promised. "If for some reason this takes longer than expected, I - I'll make sure you see them every other week."

"Why—"

The ringmaster was interrupted by the sound of hoof-beats outside. Charity lowered her head.

"That must be Father," she murmured.

With one last kiss and hugs goodbye, Barnum had no choice but to watch as his entire family walked out on him.

 


	19. 18

Dejected, Barnum got up from bed and wandered, empty-headed, through the house.

Phillip followed.

The ringmaster wound up in the kitchen. Phillip watched as he rummaged through the cabinets - and stepped away with a drink in hand. Phillip couldn't even read the label on the side before Barnum was unscrewing the top.

"Hey!"

Barnum paused. His eyes flicked briefly about the kitchen, but saw nothing. Sighing, he tipped his head back and drank from the bottle straight.

With a sudden burst of force, the bottle launched from Barnum's hands and crashed against the wall, shattering. The cry that erupted from the ringmaster was more startled than terrified, and he whipped his head to look around the room once more.

Then his gaze landed upon Phillip.

The dead man, startled by his own strength, could only stare at Barnum as the ringmaster stared at him. He held an unnecessary breath, unsure of what to do or how Barnum would react.

Barnum, though, said nothing.

With a final glance at Phillip, he turned and left the room.

 


	20. 19

Phillip gaped after Barnum for just a moment. Then he rushed after him.

"P.T.!"

Barnum's shoulders stiffened - the only sign he'd heard his former apprentice at all - but he kept walking. Phillip hurried to catch up with him.

In hindsight, he could have just appeared in front of him like a magic trick. But he didn't particularly feel like giving the older man a heart attack at that moment. So, instead, he reached out and laced his fingers around Barnum's arm like a vice.

A sharp chill spiked up Barnum's spine and he jolted to a stop. Turning, he lowered his head to peer at the man. His eyes were slightly hazy though he hadn't had the time to guzzle down that much alcohol.

"You're not real," he hissed.

Phillip blinked. Once. Twice. His hand fell from Barnum's arm, but neither he or the ringmaster made an attempt to move.

"I was real then, and I'm real now," he said smoothly.

Barnum moved to turn. Phillip grabbed his arm again. He was starting to flicker, he hadn't made real contact with the man in a long time. He had to make this quick.

"You can't keep running away from me."

Barnum parted his lips in the beginnings of a response.

Phillip Carlyle lurched forward.

He had no idea what the other man was experiencing - nothing but cool air against his lips, most likely. It would be like kissing someone in a dream - it may feel real, but nothing was actually _there_. But to him, to Phillip Carlyle, Barnum's lips met his in an explosion of warmth.

He gasped. For the first time since he died, he was _warm_. Fire shot through his body, curled his toes. Tears that would never leak welled in his eyes and his fingers lightly passed over the stubble gracing the other man's jaw.

Then Phillip was ripped away with a cry. The last thing he saw before being forced into a little ball of energy were Barnum's eyes, no longer hazy.

Bright and sad, shining and confused, they almost _glittered_ with tears of shattered hope.

 


	21. 20

Barnum laid on his back on the bed, fully clothed down to his shoes, eyes closed. Tears stained his cheeks, but he made no effort to wipe them away.

He hadn't seen Phillip since their... encounter, earlier that afternoon.

The ringmaster was brought to his feet only by the sounds of someone knocking anxiously at the door. He debated not answering it, but, figuring that it might be Anne or Lettie demanding to know where he'd been, he got out of bed and trudged to the door. He wiped his eyes one more time before opening it.

"Mr. Barnum! Is it true that your wife—"

He slammed the door shut in the news reporter's face.

Trembling, Barnum sank to the floor on his knees. He pitched forward and gently brought his fingers up to his lips, where Phillip - his spirit, his entity, whatever remained of his partner - had clung so close before.

He felt nothing.

A sob ripped from his throat and he closed his eyes. Visions of Charity were chased off by the sight of Phillip, and the fire that had ripped him away.

 


	22. 21

Charity wiped at her eyes as she stared out the window. It was raining.

Phin hated rain. She sniffled as she clutched at her chest and rested her head against the cool glass. It'd only been a few days, less than a week, since she'd left him, but she longed to know how he was doing.

"Mommy!"

Charity was snapped out of thought by her two daughters who raced each other into her room. Caroline beat Helen by half a step and a large grin lit up the elder sister's face as she exclaimed, "Mommy, Grandfather's looking for you!"

"Hmm?"

Charity rose to her feet just as her father entered the room.

"What's this?" he sneered, eyeing the casual gown she wore. "Get dressed! We're going out."

Charity sighed. "Father, what—"

"It was hard. A woman of your age with two daughters is lucky to even be looked at by a man, much less be courted by one. But, you best get ready. I've found you a suitor."

 


	23. 22

After Charity left, Barnum forced himself to the circus every day. Phillip was impressed - the man's life was crumbling around him and yet there he was, singing and dancing like he didn't have a care in the world.

The troupe was surprised to see him back - they knew of Charity's leaving, but nobody - not even Phillip himself - knew of the reporter that had come to Barnum's door that day. Everyone could tell their ringmaster was holding himself back, hiding something, but nobody dared ask what. They were just glad to have the circus back to normal, even if "normal" was just a thin-veiled illusion they repeatedly told themselves to make each other feel better.

A few days passed without word from Charity, but Phillip wasn't too worried, yet. She herself had said that it might take a week to make contact with Barnum, perhaps two to come back home. Phillip missed the girls, that was true, but he thought it better to leave the matter alone.

As Phillip would soon come to find out, he had much more concerning matters to deal with.

They were alone in the circus the first time he stumbled upon Barnum getting sick on his hands and knees.

 


	24. 23

"Phineas!"

Phillip fell to his knees at the man's side and pressed his hand to the man's back. Barnum came up shuddering, and wiped his mouth. He trembled like a frightened child and tears rolled down his cheeks, flooding his face.

"Are you ill?" Phillip urged. "I thought that doctor gave you medication—"

Barnum recoiled. "Get away from me, Carlyle."

Phillip backed off, confused, wide-eyed. He chewed on his lower lip, hands still warm from Barnum's touch.

"This doesn't concern you."

Phillip watched as the ringmaster stood up. For the first time, he noticed how truly pale the man was... how hollowed-out his face seemed. There were dark circles underneath his eyes and, when he came back with cleaning cloth in hand, Phillip watched as his fingers trembled. He nearly dropped the rags twice.

"Are you..." Phillip swallowed, hard. "Making yourself ill, Phineas?"

He'd thought the ringmaster had been fine. Sure, he had to rip away a bottle or two from him a few times, but Phillip could understand the pull, the call, of alcohol as a method of escapism. But to... forcibly make himself sick? That was a whole new level of suffering that Phillip could not wrap his mind around.

"I don't see how that's any of your concern."

Despite the venomous words on his tongue, Barnum shook with tears that he couldn't hold back. The man was sick - that, Phillip could finally see - but not in the ways that he or Charity had ever imagined.

Trembling, Phillip watched as the older man knelt and cleaned up his own mess. He knew, now, that Barnum would force himself to perform later - as he probably had after every instance of sickness, much to Phillip's own horror. Barnum was lucky that he'd yet to collapse in the middle of the ring.

He had to get Charity back.

 


	25. 24

"Mommy, are we going to have a new Daddy now?"

Charity sat at her vanity, running a brush through her long blonde hair. Her hands trembled just slightly and she sighed at Caroline's question. She set the brush down to face her eldest daughter.

"I'm working on talking to Father, Caroline, but it's going to take awhile. It's best if I keep up the charade and continue to see Mr. Thomas in the meantime."

Caroline scowled. "But I want _my_ daddy!"

"I know you do, darling." Charity sighed and lifted her daughter's face up by the chin. "But these things take time — and you can't let Grandpa know of your true feelings or else we may never see your daddy again, do you understand?"

Tears shining in Caroline's eyes, she nodded. Charity sighed and kissed the girl's forehead.

"Thank you. Now, be a good girl and go play with your sister, all right? Mr. Thomas will be here soon and I must finish getting ready."

Caroline nodded and left the room, unnaturally silent for a girl her age. Charity sighed and turned back to her mirror.

The phone rang.

It rang once, twice, before Charity realized nobody else was going to answer it. Sighing, she rose to her feet and went into the hall. The ringing had almost stopped, but Charity picked the phone up before the last ring could come through.

"Hello?"

 


	26. 25

"Hello?"

Charity clutched the phone, frowning in confusion as she is met with nothing but silence.

"Hello?"

Nothing. Dead silence.

*

On the other end of the line, Phillip fumbled with the phone. A feeling not unlike lightheadedness overwhelmed him as he fought to focus on not letting the telephone fall from his hands, but in his desperation to communicate he was losing energy fast.

He was speaking. Why couldn't Charity hear him?

He opened his mouth again, tried to force out words of help, but he paused. He listened. And, this time he really did drop the phone.

Charity had hung up.

 


	27. 26

It was risky. Very risky, indeed, but he needed Charity to talk to Barnum somehow, and days had already passed. The ringmaster was deteriorating, that much Phillip could see, but he did not possess the energy required to keep the man from harming himse—

The playwright startled at the knock on the door, and started to rush to answer it, but halted once he remembered that he couldn't. He had to wait for Barnum to answer it himself.

And, much to Phillip's relief, he did.

Phillip watched in nervous anticipation as Barnum opened the door. His eyes — dark with circles underneath — widened in shock.

"Daddy!" his daughters squealed, throwing themselves around the man's legs as one.

"Phin," Charity said. Her voice was cool, so much unlike the Charity that had left the Barnum home, as she lifted her chin and took a step forward into his — their? — home. "I've received your letter."

 


	28. 27

"Charity," Barnum whispered, "you've come back."

Charity stared up at him, blinked once, and tilted her head. She pursed her lips together in a tight line.

"Father doesn't know I've come here," she explained, "and I must get back soon. But," she glanced down at the girls who, aside from wrapping themselves tight around Barnum's legs, didn't seem to be paying them any mind, "I've come because of your letter."

Her statement took a moment to process.

"Letter?" Barnum blinked. He frowned, looking so much like the old ringmaster that it sent a hopeful thrill coursing down Phillip's spine. "What letter?"

Charity paused, his words taking her aback, and her eyes misted over with tears.

"Don't play foolish with me now, Phineas. I know you've been having..." another quick glance at their girls and she lowered her voice, "problems since we've left."

"I'm afraid I don't understand..."

Charity sighed. Drawing the attention of her daughters, she said, "girls, go up to the playroom. I'm sure your father still has it set up."

"But Mommy!"

"We only just got here!"

"You'll have time to spend with your father before we leave here. I promise."

The girls went reluctantly, casting woeful glances toward their father as he ruffled their hair. Once they were out of sight, Charity sighed and lowered herself into a nearby chair.

"Chairy—"

Before he could begin to speak, she pulled a crumpled up piece of paper out of her bag and smoothed it out on the table.

"Explain this."

 


	29. 28

_Dearest Charity,_

_I fear if you do not come back I will have gone mad. I cannot sleep. I cannot eat. Attempting to do see leaves my body wracked with sickness._

_I see Phillip everywhere I turn. He’s always there, watching me, and the sightings have only increased since you’ve left. I no longer care what your father believes — I need you by my side, Chairy. You and the girls... you’re the only things that have kept me going since Phillip’s passing._

_I cannot stand to be without you. If you stay away much longer... I may not be here upon your return._

_Faithfully yours,_

_Phineas_ _~~~~_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello I have returned from the land of the dead


	30. 29

Barnum looked up after finishing the letter, hands gripping the handwritten note so tightly he’d crinkled the paper.

“Charity,” he started in a low, shaky voice, “I didn’t write this.”

Charity scoffed. “Well, if you didn’t, then — who did?”

“I’m... not certain.” Barnum’s gaze dropped down to the letter. “The handwriting... looks familiar...” he went on, mumbling to himself.

“Who do you suggest wrote that note, Phineas?”

“Why, it... it almost looks like...” Barnum looked up, locking gazes with his wife. “Phillip’s handwriting.”

Charity laughed. It was so sudden, so shrill, that it made Phillip — who’d been silently observing up until that point — jump.

“You expect me to believe that a dead man wrote a letter to me, posing as my husband?”

Barnum’s gaze lowered again. Back hunched, eyes lowered, he hardly resembled the mighty ringmaster he’d once been. “He’s here, Charity. I swear it. I can’t see him now, but... I bet he’s probably here, in this very room.”

“What am I supposed to think when you send me a letter stating that you want to kill yourself, Phineas?” Charity demanded, ignoring her husband’s rambling about ghosts, voice nearly as shrill as her laugh.

Looking back and forth between the two, Phillip was beginning to panic. This was not how he’d meant for things to go.

Barnum needed Charity to come _home_.

“Charity, I—“

“Maybe you need more help than I’d thought.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you SilverLynxx for creating the cover!  
> Y'all are not ready for this fic, I can promise you that.


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